On the Side of the Angels
by LRRH17
Summary: Molly Hooper's castmates believe that their current theatre is haunted. And they want her to fix it. An AU inspired by Andrew Lloyd Webber's "Phantom of the Opera".


**A/N: _Sherlock, Phantom,_ and "Shatter Me" do not belong to me.**

I enter the darkened auditorium, flicking on only the stage lights as I make my way down the center aisle. Smiling and humming to myself, I can't contain the pure joy that fills me whenever I set foot on the stage. I stretch out my arms and throw back my head, spinning a perfect circle as the familiar scent of fresh scenery paint fills my lungs.

Sighing, I finally come to a stop center-stage, facing out into the dark seats.

Here goes nothing.

"So, I guess I'm the only one that thinks it's cool you're here," I begin, praying my intended audience is present. "In fact, I'm pretty sure you've scared everyone else off. That's why they sent me. I'm the only one still comfortable enough to come in here alone. You've been scaring the _heck_ out of the cast. I'm pretty sure they expect me to perform an exorcism," I laugh, settling down on the edge of the stage, my legs dangling off the side. "First of all, I wouldn't know how – but that's just between you and me. And second, I don't think that's the problem. You're not a monster or the devil just because you've done some horrible things. In fact," I pause, heart pounding now that I've reached the moment of truth, "I know you're the Angel of Music."

I let my words fill the cavernous space, listening to the last faint echoes for any whisper of a reply. As hoped for, a towering presence soon descends from beyond my left shoulder, whispering in my ear.

" _Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."_

I bite my lip to stop the stupid grin that would surely spread across my face. The presence immediately dissipates, fading outside of my perception. "Point taken," I say, lifting my hand in a gesture of surrender. "But you're still the Angel. The Angel of Music." I pause once more. "Am I allowed to call you that?"

A warm, rumbling laugh echoes across the entire auditorium. I smile along with it, extremely happy with myself.

" _Yes."_ This time, it comes directly in my right ear. I immediately turn in its direction, but all I catch is the retreating billow of a black cape behind the inner curtain.

"Good. So, Angel of Music…I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems that our current cast is slightly alarmed by some of the things you've been doing – falling scenery, flickering lights, angry stagehands…." I smile at the chuckle my comment receives. "I have to admit, though, my favorite is the laugh. Your evil cackle scared the heck out of Anderson. I haven't laughed so hard in I don't know how long." I break off, slowly and carefully turning in the direction of the softly-swaying curtain. "But they've asked me to come here and see if you'll stop." I finally complete the turn, and my gaze locks on a pair of luminous eyes glimmering in the shadows. Mere seconds later, they disappear as if never there, replaced by the beautiful sounds of a violin.

I immediately smile at the familiar intro. "I love this song," I say wistfully. "My father played it all the time when I was young."

" _I know. Do you remember the words?"_

"Of course." Turning to the empty seats, I let my voice ring out through the darkness. "I pirouette in the dark; I see the stars through a mirror…"

As the last notes of the violin fade into the distance, I slowly turn to face the presence now firmly planted behind me.

My eyes lock onto his once more. Illuminated by the stage lights, they seem even stranger – and yet, even more beautiful.

I smile. "Hello, Angel."

"Hello, Molly."

I pause, tilting my head to the side as I take in his coat, hair, and handsome, unmasked face. "This is definitely not how I expected you to look."

He smirks. "You are used to a more fantasized version, I'm sure. Just because the first Angel wore a mask doesn't mean we all do."

My eyes widen as realization dawns on me. "Are you all related?"

"Yes. I am Erik's great-great-great-grandson. Each of us was born with his unique musical gift, but none have shared his face."

"What happened to the cape?" I wave my hand towards his long black coat, the flaps of which I clearly mistook for a cape.

"It's the twenty-first century, Molly. The cape was a little outdated, don't you think?"

I smile again. "Maybe. You know, just because _I_ like you and your sense of humor doesn't mean everyone else does. If you continue with your tricks, someone will find out who you are."

He sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. "Fine. I shall refrain from overt phantom actions."

"Thank you."

"But only if you promise to visit. There is much you can learn me."

I grin, taking his pale outstretched hand. "It's a deal."


End file.
